


Not Your Damsel

by Undercover_Royalty



Series: Not Your Damsel (Series) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinemactic Universe (MCU), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, High School, Public Education, Quality Friendship, Secret Identity (sort of), Teen Angst, The joys of moving, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13885158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undercover_Royalty/pseuds/Undercover_Royalty
Summary: There’s something strange about her family’s  move to NYC, Evie’s sure of it. Something too... sudden about it. Everyone is on edge and her nonna is never home. Not to mention the people in suits, dropping by at all hours.But Evie is quick to discover that there are inexplicable things here, things her family wants her to keep away from. And it sounds like one of them is at a school called Midtown High.Too bad these new walls are paper-thin.





	1. Suburbia

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> So, truth be told, this has been a long (LONG) time coming. I’m very proud of this character, who I’ve been constantly revamping in my head for about a year now. This is a work in progress, and as always, I appreciate any feedback you have! I hope you all enjoy the story, and thank you very much for reading.

Evie thought she could hear someone trying to tell her something. 

But since it was almost her favorite part of the song she was listening to, she didn’t reply. She could feel the car turning beneath her, going up over a ramp and slowing down. They must be at a gas station. She clicked her headphones up a little louder and leaned back, turned her face from the blinding sunlight leaking in through the car window.

Abruptly, her headphones were yanked down around her neck, snagging in her short hair. Fury swelled in her like a balloon— why could they never tell when she wanted to be left alone? 

“Bathroom break, chula. Out of the car, go on.” her Nonna waved, dismissively, from the front seat. 

Evie was overwhelmed with the urge to tell Nonna that she already knew, for God’s sakes, she’d known since Mom got that Big Gulp from the last 7-11 in Jacksonville that they’d need to stop again within two hours. But that was too many words, and still emerging from some kind of travel-stupor, she elected for directness, this time. 

“I don’t need to go.” she griped. 

“Evelyn!” snapped Mom who, with her ingrained Southern sensibilities, found this a deplorable response, “We aren’t stopping again, missy, so you’d better get in there and go this instant!” 

“But I don’t have—“ 

Just then, there came an agitated slam of hands on the plastic of the steering wheel. It looked like Papa really wasn’t having it, today. 

“—Evelyn Alongora you listen to your mother and your nonna, you understand? Go!” 

Evie didn’t say anything for a second. Then, almost impulsively, she slammed her thumb into the seatbelt buckle, allowing it to zip back like a whiplash as she thrust open the door. 

“Evelyn?” her mom prompted, just as she slipped out of the car. 

She paused, glanced back into the van. They were all looking at her, Papa’s glasses, askew, catching the sunlight and Mom’s chipped nails. Even Nonna had glanced up from her book. She could faintly see the boxes, basically all their worldly possessions crammed disjointedly into the back seat. Her fingers slowly skimmed the edge of the door, brushing over the cold metal.

“Yeah?” 

Seeing she genuinely had her attention, her mom straightened in her chair. 

“Let your hair down before you go in. Nobody wants to see that ugly thing behind your ear.” 

Evie could have said a lot of things. She could have told her that “that ugly thing” was actually a small tattoo of ivy tendrils. She could have told her that the strands were for her and her Pop, and that it looked kind of like DNA and wasn’t that cool? She could have expressed how she would never understand why they moved from the state of Florida just a week after they’d buried him in its earth. 

Instead, she just slammed the door. 

As Evie walked around the van, she made sure she was in view of the windows to yank her hair loose from its ponytail. Leave it to her mother to worry over the opinions of gas-station customers. Her hair lightly brushed against her inked skin, making it sting. 

Evie entered the gas station with low expectations. Neon signs advertised every legal human vice known to man: booze, nicotine and sugar chief among them. There was a large display of Hostess snacks blocking the bathroom door, and if a few fell to the floor as she passed, she quietly nudged them under the shelves. The little snack-cakes always made her think of her sister. 

Unlike Evie, currently kicking and screaming her way up the East Coast, Ms. Maya Alongora hadn’t even needed to leave Florida. She was a “college girl” now, and as such, she was no longer subject to the whims and fancies of a deluded family. No, she was allowed to remain at a friend’s house for the summer until she went off to some beach-town university in the fall. Maya had a full scholarship and her parent’s unwavering pride. She hadn’t needed to compromise. She hadn’t really bothered to see things from Evie’s perspective, either. 

“It’s New York City, Evie.” she’d insisted at dinner one night, “Focus on the opportunities you’ll get! You’re gonna have a lot of fun.” 

And okay, maybe somewhere inside, Evie knew things would turn out. It’s just that that piece of her was buried so deep under grief and frustration and the general unfairness of it all that digging it up was more trouble than it was worth right now. 

She got back into the car, wrapped her pillow over her head and fell asleep. 

They drove straight on through the night. Apparently, it was better to pay for gas and Redbull than a hotel room. Evie slept most of the time. Her headphones finally died halfway through New Jersey, so she lay very still and listened to Papa complain about the traffic, the weather and the car, in no particular order. 

“We’re through the gate.” said Mom after about half an hour of grousing. 

“Evelyn,” prompted Nonna, “look outside. This is New York.” 

Slowly, muscles protesting from her cramped position, Evie leaned up and looked out the window. In all her fifteen years of life, she’d never been to a “big city”. She’d been to Disney World, once, but that was about it. 

New York City was nothing like Disney World. It was cramped, and dirty and dust coated the upper atmosphere like a filthy blanket. Advertisements, flashing, peeling, fresh and ancient lined every open surface. The only similarity to Disney that Evie could find was the crowds. Here, it was like people bled from the walls. Most everybody walked with the occasional biker zipping between them like a pinball machine. Traffic moved at a crawl, and somebody was always honking. 

“Well?” said Nonna, curiously, “What do you think?” 

“It’s... loud.” Evie decided, “Um... I guess the billboards are pretty cool.” 

“I’ll have to take you to see Broadway, of course. You remember, at New Year’s?” Nonna offered.

“Yeah,” Evie agreed, “That... that sounds good.” 

Truth be told, she was a little overwhelmed. Evie didn’t like feeling like she’d just rolled in from Smallville USA, but in the face of such a sprawling metropolis, few other comparisons could be made. She wondered what Pop would think of it all, then instantly wished she hadn’t. 

She went quiet again as Mom unraveled a map and tried to decipher it. Acclimating to the culture, Papa laid on the horn when a yellow cab weaved in front of them and nearly took off the front headlight. Finally Nonna pulled up a map on her phone, which worked much better for everyone. 

Despite it all, it took them an hour and a half to find their apartment. Evie was a little surprised— she’d expected shoebox sizes rooms and a drippy kitchen, but found herself with a room more befittingly compared to a fancy hat box. More impressive than that, they even had a tiny balcony. It was a little rusty and creaky, but it was nice, and just down from her room. 

Turning from it, she was unnervingly reminded of the man standing in the kitchen. He’d arrived shortly after them, much to Nonna’s delight— she’d embraced him warmly in the parking garage. He’d even helped Papa carry the first boxes inside. When Evie asked, he told her that his name was Phil Coulson, and he was a friend of her Nonna’s. Evie didn’t understand how her grandmother, a woman she’d known as mostly retired, could have a friend so far away as New York. 

But it was only on her next trip up the stairs that Mr. Coulson’s creep factor went up by about ten levels. 

“So, your granddaughter,” she heard him say from the kitchen, “where‘s she going? Doesn’t she have an interest in medicine? Midtown isn’t too far—“ 

“No.” snapped her Nonna, in such an icy tone that Evie jolted, “You know the rumors about that school. Evelyn will not be getting mixed up in that mess.” 

“It’s just a suggestion,” prodded Coulson, “how old is she now, fifteen? We’d give her a full scholarship. All you’d need is to ask every so often what she’s heard—“ 

“I said no, Coulson. Taking this job is risk enough for my family. I will not tempt fate any further.” 

There was a long, tense pause. Evelyn could imagine Nonna’s severe dark eyes cutting through the suited man like a fillet knife.

“I see. My apologies, Johanna.” he finally acquiesced.

She could hear the click of his shoes on the wood. Quickly, Evie knelt down, placed her box aside, and pretended she was tying her laces. The clicking stopped one step below her. Evie, only fumbling with the knots, looked back to see Phil glance at her. They met eyes for an instant before he turned and strode back down the stairs. The girl gently slid her box against the wall once he’d gone, sent a wary glance up to the kitchen. 

She’d been right all along. This move had been too sudden. This apartment seemed a little too nice. Very... central. But central to what? And more importantly, what was it that Nonna didn’t want her to be mixed up in? 

Evie quickly pulled out her phone and Google-searched ‘Midtown High’.


	2. This City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> As I’ve been writing this, I’ve noticed that this buildup is a lot slower than expected. For a Spider-Man fic, this has a distinct lack of Spider-Man in it, but I’m getting there!  
> Thanks for reading! If you have any suggestions, comments are always open!  
> \- U.R

A month after her move, and Evie decided that “The City That Never Sleeps” was a pretty apt descriptor. November was rolling in, and with it came a drop in temperatures that she found entirely unpleasant. Still, she’d been busy trying to catch up on a month of work at her new school, Eastview High. 

Evie could at least find comfort that, no matter where she moved, America’s education system was just as bad. Still a messy cafeteria, still both students and some teachers who looked like they could care less. She’d started talking to a girl named Maggie in her science class, who prided herself in knowing everything there was to know about the sophomore class. 

Evie really didn’t know how anybody had the time or willpower to know as much about other people as Maggie did, and yet she never seemed to tire of it. As a matter of fact, she was still going about the latest ‘dirt’, of the sophomore class ten minutes later, twirling a braid around her hand. 

“...So, anyways, then Josiah comes to me and guess what he says, Evie?” Maggie is asking, “C’mon, guess.” 

“No idea, honestly.” Evie admitted. 

“He says he saw that “Spider-Man” guy swinging around yesterday. Right after school!” Maggie snorted, “I mean, can you imagine? So then I told him that’s a load of B.S—“ 

“—Wait, what Spider-Man guy?” Evie asked. 

“You know, Spider-Man?” Maggie repeated, putting her hands into a weird hand gesture and alternating them forward, eyebrows knitting as Evie didn’t react, “Wait, Evie, you don’t know Spider-Man?”

In reply, she gave the barest hint of a shrug. 

“Should I? Sounds like a publicity stunt.” 

“See that’s what everybody thought.” Maggie insisted, thunking her hand down on the table, “Lots of people said it was some random gymnast dude just trying to exploit the tourists, but these days, I think he’s the real deal. I think he’s enhanced and stuff.” 

“Huh.” Evie acknowledged, leaning on one hand, “What did he do?”

“Well,” Maggie glanced side to side, like this was some kind of secret, “like, a month before you moved here, he started showing up everywhere. There was something about one of the Staton Island Ferries splitting in half. Some people say he actually held the boat together with his webs until Iron Man got there.” 

“Oh, bullshit—“ Evie waved her free hand. 

“—No, no, I’m not done!” Maggie cut her off, “That’s not even the weirdest part.” 

“You mean it’s not the biggest lie, right?” Evie raised an eyebrow, smiling despite herself. 

“No, no, I swear!” Maggie laughed, semi-awkwardly, “Seriously, so a little bit after that, there was a plane crash on Coney Island. By the time the police got there, all the plane’s cargo had been webbed together, along with the guy who did it. Evie, I swear, it was the Avengers’ plane.” 

Evie only shook her head. She knew enough to gather that the Avengers were kind of a big deal around here. New York took great personal pride in her districted heroes. For her part, it seemed that the Eastview “Howlies” couldn’t go more than a week without watching a Captain America PSA about bullying, telling the truth, or God forbid, sex ed. But still, that was exactly the kind of thing that people looking to make a quick buck would capitalize on. 

“Maggie, I hate to tell you this, but we’re in the middle of a news crisis. Y’know, the whole ‘check your sources’ thing?” 

Maggie sends her a look, clearly put out by her lack of enthusiasm. She picked up her phone and typed quickly for a second before flipping the screen in Evie’s direction. It looked to be a screenshot from a local news source— The Daily Bugle, if she read it right. 

“New Yorkers might be proud, but we aren’t stupid, y’know.” she offered as Evie took the phone. 

The charred-out carcass of a massive plane took the the center frame. Around it, dozens of tiny fires burned over the tan beach. And then, behind it... those couldn’t be— 

“Spider webs, you said?” Evie repeated, zooming in. 

“Yep.” Maggie confirmed, “See that guy tied up there?” 

“The bald one?” Evie clarified, only barely able to make out features. 

“Yep. Not that it’s gonna matter much to you, but that guy is Liz Allan’s dad. Caused quite the stir around here when the police report came out.” 

“Who’s Liz?” Evie asked, clicking the phone off and passing it back. 

“She went to Midtown, but you could catch her anywhere. We went to a couple of the same parties— some girls here totally idolized her. But then all this came out and she had to move away.” Maggie admitted. 

“Oh. That sucks.” Evie agreed, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah, I mean, can you imagine? It’s just an average day, and all of a sudden you find out you’ve been lied to for your whole life, your family is being torn apart and you literally have to move the next week?” 

Evie whistled a short breath through her teeth and shook her head. 

“Couldn’t even imagine.” 

As the bell rang, she and Maggie split up for their next class. Evie shouldered her way through the hallway, wondering. She hadn’t spent too much time considering what she’d overheard the month before, about her grandmother’s blatant animosity towards Midtown. 

“You know the rumors about that school.”

Spider-Man was absolutely connected with Midtown High, somehow. The question now was exactly how close was he? 

On the subway home, Evie turned on her data for some basic Google searching. She began as basically as possible: “spider man midtown high”. She absolutely, under no circumstances expected to get anything. 

But almost as soon as she tapped the search button, articles were pouring in: “Vigilante Vacation?” “A Monumental Meltdown” “Spider-Man Rescues Midtown High Students”. Taken aback, Evie tapped the first article and started reading. 

As it turned out, Midtown High had a pretty well-renowned Decathalon team. Said team, after winning the National Championships had been trapped in the Washington Monument after a sort of “bomb” went off, only to have Spider-Man swoop in to the rescue. There was an attached, grainy video of a red-suited figure crashing through one of the upper windows before vanishing from view. 

Whoever this Spider-Man was, they certainly weren’t subtle, Evie considered. Now not only did she know they were connected with Midtown, but they had to have a connection with the decathlon team. They definitely knew Liz directly. Briefly, she wished she’d asked if Maggie had a way to contact Liz, then wondered why it even mattered. 

(Because Nonna wanted her to stay out of it). 

She still wasn’t quite ready to admit that to herself, yet. 

So, pushing her curiosity about Spider-Man aside, Evie went home to work on her homework. She didn’t have a desk and usually ended up working on her bed— thereby meaning she took a lot of accidental naps. Today, she was woken from an unexpected twenty-minutes to hear voices, quiet yet forceful from under the door. 

Quietly, Evie sat up, slipping down from her bed and creeping across the wooden floors until she could lay flat near the door, peering under the crack. It seemed that even eavesdropping had been easier at her old house. Still, she could see her mom’s fuchsia heels and her Nonna’s black flats pacing around each other like gladiators before a match. 

“And you’re sure?” her mom is saying, lowly, “You’re sure that’s all it is?” 

“Kelly, if I wasn’t sure, do you think I would be telling you now?” Nonna challenged, “So far as I know, art is the only thing housed in an art museum.” 

“Johanna, please be honest.” her mom insisted, “You’ve done this before. You tell us there ain’t nothing to worry for, then you start stayin’ out later and later, coming back with people like that Mr. Coulson— it just doesn’t sit right with me. ‘Specially with Evie here—“ 

“—Nothing will happen to Evie.” Nonna broke in quickly, “If you believe nothing else, believe that. Evie will be safe.” 

Her mom was silent for a long time, which she never was. Finally, her heels stopped pacing. 

“You promise me that.” she said, quietly. 

“I give you my word.” 

It got very, very quiet after that, as if the two women were just remembering their enclosed quarters. Finally, the heels clicked away, and, after a moment’s hesitation, the flats scuffed the other way. Evie sat up, quickly, hair falling in her eyes from her haste, feeling curiosity so poignant that her chest ached. What on earth was Nonna doing? 

Evie knew what she was meant to be doing, anyways— the day after the funeral, she’d been offered a position at a Brooklyn art museum as an assistant curator, of sorts. Her work badge introduced her as the curator of ‘Stored Assets’, whatever that meant. Upon further examination, it was a title vague enough to apply to things other than art, which explained her mom’s concern. But what on earth would an art museum store other than art? 

Evie paced back and forth, ideas floating through her head like scraps of paper. Maybe Nonna was looking after rare plants, or artifacts supposedly ‘lost in time’. Maybe they had some ancient hieroglyphs somewhere. But none of those explained why her mother had been so worried. Furthermore, they’d been specifically worried about her— again. 

Funny how they only seemed to care about her wellbeing now. 

In an attempt to quell a surge of irritation, Evie searched up a map of the subway system and routed a way home from school that allowed her to go past Midtown. Sure, it took an extra thirty minutes, but it wasn’t like she had too terribly much to do anyway. Before going to bed, Evie resolved to take her new route the next day.


	3. The Night We Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth be told, I actually wrote Chapter 2 and this chapter in one marathon sitting, after being too busy to write for a week. I’m really having fun with this story, and as always, thank you all for reading!

As it happened, Evie didn’t run into Spider-Man that next day. Even taking the route for a week straight, there was no sign of the vigilante. Disheartened, she switched back to the usual way home. Overall, the newness of New York was starting to fade. Evie was surprised one morning to find she didn’t need to double-check her morning route. Her parents had begun to stop pointing out new spots to eat every time they walked down the street. Her Nonna never found the time to take her to Broadway, as promised. 

All these things considered, Evie shouldn’t have been surprised the night the argument broke out. 

Her parents were both very passionate people, inclined to debate over most topics. Despite this, they usually managed to find some sort of compromise. Some may even consider a few of their smaller quibbles over dinner locations or date night activities “endearing”. But, sometimes, these compromises just didn’t work. When that happened, it didn’t matter how trivial the issue— the argument would be long, and could get fairly nasty if they were so inclined. 

Today it was over the groceries. As Evie ascertained from her mom’s infuriated jabs the second she opened the door, her papa had forgotten to pick up milk and Lays Chips— both essential items— from the grocery that day. Papa, on the other hand, was approaching one month of employment as a DuckBoats tour guide— a job which he loathed with his entire being— whilst he searched for a position as a high school math teacher. As such, his short fuse had gone even lower, and today, it finally exploded. 

Evie shouldered her bag and prepared to enter the war zone. But, just as she made to come through the door, she heard the quick thump of feet on the wood as Nonna slipped through the door and pushed a twenty-dollar bill into her hands. 

“You run along and grab milk and chips, okay? Leave them to it, chula.” 

“But— but I just got here—“ Evie protested, tired, sore from P.E and overloaded with civics homework. 

“Go, Evie.” Nonna insisted, and clicked the door shut in her face. 

For a moment, Evie considered screaming in frustration, felt the force of it building up in her chest before she dropped her backpack to the ground and sat against the door instead. From here she could hear the muffled argument, knew Nonna was stealing away to her room with a lavender candle, able to wait it out without batting an eyelash. 

Muffled or no, after five minutes and Evie couldn’t stand it. She pulled on her backpack again and stalked back downstairs, out into the dusk, feeling like a storm cloud had materialized over her head. 

Why, why, was it her job to stop her parents fighting? Why did she always find herself as an intermediary to their stupid fights? Sure, this one would likely end just like all the ones before, with a witty joke from her papa and a reserved smile from her mom the next morning. Sure, Evie may well have forgotten about it by next week. But in this moment, right now, as the sky darkened and headlights seemed to click on like a singular entity, now was when it mattered. Now was when it hurt. 

Evie stared at herself in the subway window, hating the damp glints in the corners of both eyes. It was only when she glanced up at the line that she realized she was taking her long route. The Midtown route. 

“ _Mierda_.” Evie cursed, and still ended up with a dirty look from a mother holding her young son. 

Pressured by the woman’s infuriated stare, Evie ended up getting off at the next stop. She clambered her way up the stairs, emerging into a light rain, well and truly lost. 

Perfect. 

She trudged down the sidewalk, fat raindrops hitting her every so often as they slid off shop awnings. All she needed was milk and Lays potato chips. New York City, city of dreams and rampant sleep deprivation and it couldn’t provide her with those basic necessities? Apparently not— though she did pass two separate Starbucks in a three block span of each other. National priorities. 

Finally, rounding a corner, Evie found herself staring into a faded red awning, with Delmar’s Sandwich Shop emblazoned across it in white type. Evie dithered for a moment, wondering if the building, which still seemed to be under construction, was going to be her best shot. Then, the rain started to pick up, which ultimately made the decision for her. 

Evie stepped in and made her way across the shop, head down , grabbing the largest bag of Lays she could find and glancing around, barely daring to hope until— yes! Evie never thought she’d see the day a sandwich shop carried gallons of milk, but she was grateful all the same. She pulled out the first half-jug she could reach and made her way back to the counter, where a tired man sat, petting a large, snoozing cat curled atop the register. 

Evie put the items down, quietly. There was something weirdly uncomfortable about being the only person in a shop. Nonetheless, the shop owner—Delmar as his name tag confirmed—seemed to understand. 

“Just these?” he offered, in a rough accent. 

“Yes.” Evie replied, quickly passing her card over, eyes falling to the cat. He was a cute thing, noticeably overweight and entirely content. As if he could sense her watching, he opened a single green eyes, mouth briefly opening in a silent greeting. Evie smiled before she could help it. 

“That’s Murph.” Delmar offered as he swiped her card, “He runs this joint.” 

“He’s sweet.” Evie returned, as the cat gave a long yawn and settled back on his paws. 

“Oh, that’s what he wants you to think.” the man returned, passing her card back and giving Murph a scratch behind the ears. 

Evie took the bags on the table, barely resisting the urge to pet Murph herself. 

“Thank you.” she offered, and went for the door before he could reply. 

Evie stepped out into something between a drizzle and a deluge of rain. These droplets were heavy yet fell somewhat softly, splattering across the body wherever they hit, leaving one soaked to the skin in under a minute. She waited under the awning, rocking back and forth on her heels. Why couldn’t things be easy? 

As she paused, the rain still pouring, Evie realized that there was a sound hidden under the rain— sirens wailing, somewhere close. Instinctively, her head turned, just as the first flashes of red and blue came around the corner. These sirens were different from those she knew, screeching at a higher pitch than Florida’s more mournful wail. She paused and watched as the cars sped by, one after the other. 

There, in the rain, with her bags, Evie quietly realized how grateful she was that none of those cars were going towards her apartment. Much as her parents may spat, neither of them were hurt. Neither of them were dying. 

She tried not to instinctively see her pop’s face and failed, miserably. She needed to move, to forget. Evie glanced to the left, towards where she’d come from and found herself squinting down the block. Her eyebrows raised. 

From her vantage point, it appeared that something was swinging down the street. She watched the blob of red and blue move from side to side, almost like a pendulum as it got closer and closer. It was almost like it was following the fading wail of the police sirens. Evie stayed, oddly hypnotized, until the blob got close enough that she realized it wasn’t a blob at all. It was a person. And so far as she knew, there was only one person in the entirely of New York who got around like that. 

Evie watched as Spider-Man, Queen’s vigilante, swung past her in a low arc, body tensed like a gymnast on the high bars. She stared as he reached the crest of an ascent, arm sliding out to fire another blast of silk and— missed? Evie blinked, startled. 

She wasn’t mistaken. The silk went one way. Spider-Man went another, straight past her, falling. 

“What the—?“ 

As the words left her mouth, there was a terrible crash. She could hear trash can lids spinning and the faint screech of rats from an alley over. 

“Oh Jesus, oh God—“ Evie muttered, frantic as she bolted around the corner leaving her groceries by the turn. 

In the middle of the alley lay Spider-Man. Luckily (or was it unluckily?) he seemed to have landed directly in a pile of garbage, plastic bags splitting open to tumble over him. As she watched from around the side of the building, he started to get up, one of the eyes on his mask twitching. 

“I... I really jut missed that, didn’t I?” he muttered, one hand on his head. 

There was no response, but he seemed to nod, like he’d heard one. 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll get six hours tonight, I promise.” 

He stumbled up fully from the garbage bags and started to walk. Evie felt like she was frozen, up until she noticed the blood drizzling from the back of his calf. He must’ve cut it on something metal in the garbage pile. After that, intervening wasn’t really an option anymore. 

“Hey—“ Evie spoke and stepped around the corner, straight into the path of two web-shooters, aimed directly at her. 

Awkwardly, she put up her hands. As she waited, caught in a standoff, it seemed that Spider-Man was just as hesitant as she was. 

“I, uh...” she broke the silence, “I saw you fall.” 

“What about it?” he retorted. 

To Evie’s bemusement, he seemed to be roughening his voice. It was attempting to be at least an octave lower than what she’d heard before. If she hadn’t been sure of Spider-Man being a high school kid before, she certainly was then. 

“You cut your leg, if you didn’t notice.” she jabbed back, “If you give me a second and put down the silly-string, I can grab you something from my First Aid kit.” 

There was another moment of pause, the rain starting to lighten up. Finally, slowly, the vigilante lowered his hands. Immediately, Evie shrugged out of her backpack, dropping it down and digging in the front pocket for her kit. The far left compartment was as basic as it came, a few gauze pads, Band-Aids and butterfly closers. To Evie, it was a comfort to have. 

“It’s uh...” Spider-Man cleared his throat, roughening his voice again, “It’s not silly string, actually. It’s an adhesive web fluid. I developed it myself.” 

“Oh, really?” Evie replied, distractedly searching for the right sized price of gauze. 

“Yeah. Uh-huh.” he double-emphasized, pacing awkwardly around the thin alleyway. 

Or, well, it was more of a limp, considering his cut leg, but still. Evie finally found a medium sized pad and stored her kit, standing back up and hiking her bag over one shoulder. 

“Here.” she offered, holding it out. 

Spider-Man reached out to take it, fingers accidentally brushing over hers before he quickly pulled away, the pad in his hand. The white eyes of the suit were wide open. 

“—I have a healing factor, you know.” he suddenly blurted out. 

“Huh?” 

“I-I self-heal.” he clarified, “So, uh, this is kinda obsolete, really.” 

“Oh.” Evie returned, “I guess we both just stood out in the rain for nothing.” 

She turned and left the alleyway, slightly embarrassed. Of course he had a goddamn healing factor, how else would he have survived half the crap she’d seen in the news? Offering him a flimsy little gauze pad: oh, good for you, Evie, what a big help. She stopped to pick up her groceries—mercifully, not stolen— and kept walking, until a shout made her turn back. 

“That was really nice of you, by the way!” 

Spider-Man was perched up on a building maybe twenty feet back from her. She dithered, unsure on whether to respond. 

“It’s nothing.” she finally decided to reply, because it really was, it was a ten-cent gauze pad. 

“Still, I really appreciate it, m’am— uh, I mean, Miss...?” 

“Evie.” she replied, the hint of a smile pulling at her face, “Just Evie is fine.” 

“Oh.” he says, and it sounds like he’s smiling, “Thank you again, Evie.” 

And just like that, Spider-Man shot a line of webbing and swung off down the street. Evie watched him go for a minute, up until a hassled older man bumped into her and unleashed a slew of muttered curses at his inconvenience. She hustled back to the subway pretty quickly after that. 

And the way home, just like with the cat at Delmar’s shop, Evie found herself smiling for no reason at all.


	4. Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When her first high-school party doesn’t go as planned, Evie finds herself with some interesting companions for the ride back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I’ve finally returned to this. 
> 
> Let’s put it this way— I am HORRIBLE with chaptered works. Both this one and In the Oddest of Places are still in progress, even if I am INSANELY slow with updates. If there is anyone even reading this at this point, you’re the real MVP. 
> 
> But, regardless, I will still be posting this out into the void. What can I say, I still love this girl.

“You need to get out more.” 

Evie blinked, then unstuck her cheek from her hand as she sat up, looking quizzically to Maggie. 

“Huh?” 

“You heard me. You should start branching out.” the girl insisted, twirling a braid around her finger. 

“Branching out.” Evie repeated, blankly. 

“You need to meet more people, Evie. Am I seriously the only friend you’ve made in almost a whole month?” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Evie muttered, stabbing at her limp excuse of a salad, 

“I don’t think you want me answering that.” Maggie sighed, “Look, there are tons of cool people around— besides, some of them have started asking me about what your deal is.” 

“Why?” Evie questioned, incredulous. 

“Sorry, but I’m kinda high-profile, kid.” Maggie replied, teasingly, “The less I talk about someone, the more people wanna know. And you’re pretty adamant that you’ve got nothing to say about yourself.” 

Evie frowned. 

“I don’t. People don’t need to know my life story.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Maggie brushed her off, “Bottom line, you can start thanking me now, because this whole problem is about to go away.” 

Here was the thing about Maggie. Part of the reason she knew so much about people was because she was genuinely interested in them. Her people-skills were easily above average, and Evie knew she’d be hard-pressed to find a better listener anywhere. The downside was that  
Maggie was just as good a speaker— she could convince people to do things well beyond their comfort zones within minutes. 

Looking at her then, Evie quietly acknowledged that she likely was her friend’s next target. 

“And how exactly are you gonna do that?” 

“Well, I heard that Betty Brant— she goes to Midtown— is having a party this Friday night. I may also have mentioned that we’d both be there.” 

“Oh, boy.” Evie muttered, putting her head in her hand. 

“Oh, come _on_.” Maggie threw up her hands, “This could actually be fun, Evie! Besides, you’re always busy volunteering at that hospital—“ 

“Presbyterian.” Evie corrected, “I like volunteering.” 

“Believe me, I know.” Maggie sighed, “But could you at least do this one thing, so people will get off my back? I‘m not asking too much, here.” 

That was fair. It was just one party. A party she didn’t exactly want to go to, regardless, but still. Maybe then people would back off a little and Evie could finally just assimilate into the rest of the school. 

“I guess.” Evie finally acquiesced, “What station do I meet you at?” 

“Oh no, we’re carpooling with a friend of mine.” Maggie insisted, “We’ll be by around seven on Friday, so make sure to be ready. It’s gonna be awesome, I promise.” 

And with that, she almost immediately whipped out her phone, likely to contact the inevitable group chat she’d created specifically for that purpose. Within a minute, Evie’s phone was buzzing, alerting her that she’d been added to a new chat. She glanced back up to Maggie, who only grinned. God, she would make a terrifyingly good politician. 

Once Friday came around, Evie figured her mom was pretty relieved when she told her she was going out with friends. As the weeks rolled by, her social life had become a hot-button issue at the dinner table. In her mom’s view, she spent too much time at Presbyterian Hospital, where she’d begun volunteering in a program designed for high-schoolers. Of course, that really meant that the bulk of Evie’s actual job was straightening up the patient’s rooms and bringing them food when they buzzed for it. 

Still, she liked it. She was doing something she enjoyed, something that was helpful. More helpful than giving a Band-Aid to somebody with a healing factor, at any rate. Evie hadn’t heard too much about Spider-Man recently, although whenever the odd report came on the evening news, Nonna always flipped the channel. 

“It’s a wonder they haven’t caught onto him, yet.” she’d muttered, once, “I don’t recall seeing his signature on the Accords, after all.” 

“He’s not doing anything wrong.” Evie had retorted, and they hadn’t spoken for the rest of the night. So, that was going about as well as ever. 

Evie turned to either side, scanning herself in the mirror. For the most part, she’d gone the unassuming route, wearing jeans, a solid white t-shirt and checkered Vans. Despite that, she’d dressed it up just a bit with her new jacket— faux leather, with a large decal of roses on the back. She liked it so much that she even considered posting on Instagram, but then figured that was overkill. 

Someday, maybe. 

Evie was already waiting on the sidewalk when a silver convertible flashed its’ lights and eased up to the curb. 

“Hey, girl!” Maggie waved from the front passenger seat, “C’mon, hop in.” 

“Hey, Maggie.” Evie replied, eyes alighting on a long series of scratches down both curbside doors, meticulously painted over. Her friend stood up and wrenched the seat up, allowing Evie to somewhat awkwardly clamber into the seat behind hers. 

“Don’t mind the scratches, I didn’t cause ‘em.” the driver scoffed, giving her a quick once-over in the rearview mirror, “Evie, right?” 

“Yeah.” Evie replied, buckling in, “And you are?” 

“Oh come on, Maggie’s totally mentioned me.” he retorted, swinging back into traffic as a cab honked loudly behind them, “Haven’t you?” 

“For sure.” Maggie replied, evenly, “Though I mention lots of people.” 

“I’m Flash Thompson.” the kid, Flash, finally addressed Evie, smirking in the rearview, “Don’t forget it, this time.” 

“I... don’t plan to.”

Evie’s suspicions were confirmed on the drive over— Flash was the expected stereotype of an uptown kid, likely hiding everything behind a douchey façade. His favorite stories to tell on the drive mostly involved his dad confronting people who “didn’t know who he was”. Evidently, he was a high-profile lawyer, and expected to be recognized for it, all the time, everywhere. 

“He was itching to take on the Adrian Toomes case, but Mom drew the line.” Flash explained at another light, “Man, I woulda loved to see Dad tear the prosecution apart.” 

“But it was confirmed, wasn’t it? Toomes was the Vulture. Spider-Man unmasked him.” Evie prompted. 

“Well, yeah,” Flash agreed, “And sure, Spider-Man’s awesome, but he doesn’t know the whole story. My family has known Liz’s since the both of us were little. If anybody could speak to Mr. Toomes’ _real_ character, it’d be my dad.” 

Evie thought about responding and then stayed quiet instead. Flash seemed pretty volatile on the current subject and the last thing she needed was to cause an outburst when he was driving. Maggie picked up the slack in conversation, throwing in something about the Eastview Howlies crushing Midtown’s football team, the Tigers, last week. The conversation carried them all the way back into the suburbs and up a smooth circle driveway. Flash parked right in front of the door and swanned straight in to various shouts from inside. 

“Where you been, man?” 

“Flash, get over here, we got your shit set up already!” 

“Yeah, we were gonna call Owen, but his mixes suck.” 

Evie quickly climbed out after Maggie, who cut a path to follow Flash inside. Evie wasn’t really sure if she wanted to spend any more time with that guy, but she definitely didn’t want to loose Maggie in a torrent of people either. So, she stayed close behind her, grabbing a cup of... something as Maggie passed it back. They ended up against the side wall. Evie took a closer look at her drink— an unnerving electric blue— then glanced at Maggie. 

Maggie snorted. 

“Evie, it’s _Gatorade_.” she insisted, “Betty’s got strict parents. But hey, if you want it spiked, I think I saw—“ 

“—Nope.” Evie said, maybe too quickly, taking a swig, “I’m fine, thanks.” 

“Okay, buddy.” Maggie teased, playfully hitting her in the shoulder. 

About five feet away, Flash had finally kicked up the DJ booth, which involved a lot more airhorns than Evie would have expected. It was so loud, it was hard to focus on anything, so Evie swept the crowd instead, finding a lot of chatting groups and a few brave souls trying to dance to whatever electronic backbeat Flash was attempting to create. 

And then, all too suddenly, it stopped. 

“Dude, dude, he’s here!” somebody yelled, “Cut the music!” 

Looking over, Evie saw a grin light up Flash’s face in the weak neon lights. He pulled the plug, quickly, as multiple whispers of ‘quiet, shut up!’ broke out across the floor. 

“Wait, what’s happening?” Evie questioned Maggie, who even looked a bit surprised herself. 

She quickly glanced out through the blinds, the light from outside cutting bars across her face. 

“Oh, no.” she muttered, quietly. 

Evie didn’t have time to question that response before the door creaked open and two new guys entered the party. Both looked understandably confused. One, wearing a Star Wars shirt— and good God, was that a fedora?— stayed slightly in front of his friend, glancing around once he picked up on the silence. The other boy was unconsciously drumming his fingers at his side, the other hand raking through his gelled hair. 

Evie barely even had time to blink again before the DJ booth jolted back to life and everyone started screaming. It was absolute bedlam— people booing the two guys like they were a bad cover band, throwing things, cursing and shoving them none too lightly. The brunette seemed to be getting the worst of it, even as his friend tried to shove past the people who’d surrounded him. Pushing and shoving and screaming ensured until Evie saw somebody raise something— a vase— bringing it down with a crash. 

There was one of those collective ‘ _ooohs_ ’ like when somebody got taken out by the teacher in elementary school. Carrie Underwood’s ‘Before He Cheats’ faded out just as the boy and his friend raced back out the door, slamming it behind them. A raucous cheer swelled up. Flash grabbed the microphone, exhilarated. 

“That’s what we do to geeks!” he barked, “That’s what we do to nerds who stand up Liz Toomes! Fuck Penis Parker! Everybody say it!” 

And thus, a chant broke out. Evie turned to Maggie, stunned, having pressed herself against the wall to avoid the chaos. 

“ _What_ was that?” she questioned. 

“Evie, I... I didn’t know that was gonna happen!” she insisted over the noise. 

“What did that guy even do, Maggie?” Evie demanded, “What did he do to deserve that?” 

“Nobody really knows! Most people say he ditched Liz at the dance! Some people say he told the cops about her dad! Flash thinks he did both!” 

Evie thought about the boy, and the look he’d had on his face. He looked like he knew exactly what he’d walked into. But he still hadn’t left. 

She looked back to Flash, still screaming into the microphone with reckless abandon, now holding up a plastic bag, filled with large pieces of a chipped white vase, stained with red. A blonde girl, evidently Betty, if the birthday crown on her head was any indication, stood a little behind him, completely shocked. 

And just like that, Evie didn’t care what the school thought about her. She didn’t care what knowing Flash would do for her supposed reputation. Maybe she didn’t know what had happened— maybe the kid had, in some way, deserved what he got. But she couldn’t stay after that. She just couldn’t. Let them think she walked out on Maggie, if they wanted to. She looked back at her friend. 

“Maggie, I can’t stay here.” she admitted. 

“Evie, I swear, it’s over, somebody can probably explain—“ Maggie persuaded.

“I really don’t want to hear an explanation.” Evie insisted, “Sorry, but I’m going.” 

Maggie sighed, but nodded. 

“Okay.” 

Hesitating a moment more, Evie turned over her shoulder. 

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

And then she turned and she left without another word. 

Up and to that day, Evie had never been to a party before. She assumed they weren’t usually like that, and Maggie’s words had to have some merit, but still. Maybe the boy really had ditched Liz. Maybe he’d told the police about her father. But did he deserve to be bludgeoned with a vase for it? Why _had_ he done it? Nobody knew and nobody cared to learn. For some people, assumption was enough. 

Evie was so lost in thought, that she didn’t hear the voices until she’d already rounded the corner. The boy and his friend were sitting on a bench outside a neighborhood park, talking quietly. Exasperated, his friend pulled off his hat and tossed it down beside him. 

“Dude, I... I’m so sorry. Betty never, ever mentioned anything...” 

“I know, Ned.” the boy sighed, “It’s okay. Are you hurt?” 

“Probably some bruises.” Ned shrugged, “Dude, _you’re_ the one that’s bleeding. You need, like, a napkin or something.” 

Evie blinked, remembered walking away from Spider-Man and tucking the gauze pad she’d tried to give him into her pocket. She’d been wearing jeans then, right? Curiously, she dug her hand in— and there it was. Well, maybe it could actually do some good this time. Whatever this kid had done, he didn’t deserve to free-bleed the whole way back home. 

“I think I saw somewhere around the corner, I could—“ the friend, Ned, broke off, turning to her as she came closer. 

“Um... hi.” Evie spoke, “I kinda overheard— well, anyways, I have a gauze pad, if you need it. That... that cut looks pretty bad.” 

The bleeding boy stared back at her like he’d never seen a girl before. Why exactly he looked so shocked by her gesture was beyond her. He swallowed, hard, and she inferred— maybe he was shy. 

“Dude.” Ned hissed not-too-quietly, jabbing him in the side. 

“Oh.” the boy came out of his trance, lightly taking the pad, ”Thank you.” 

“No problem.” Evie replied. 

“I-I’m Peter, by the way.” the boy finally introduced himself, ripping open the package. He glanced up to her and, seeing her looking, attempted a smile that looks somewhat strained. 

“My name’s Evie.” she returned, casually, rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Were you at Betty’s, just now?” Ned finally broke in, warily. 

“Yeah.” Evie nodded, “But I go to Eastview. I had no idea what was going down.” 

“So you saw... _that_.” Peter inferred, sounding much quieter now. 

Evie was unsure how to feel about the subtle sadness in his voice. She decided to choose her next words carefully, watching him reach up and gingerly press the gauze against his forehead. 

“Mmhm. That Thompson guy is kind of a brat.” she offered, “He go to Midtown?” 

Peter nodded once. That incident likely hadn’t been his first with Flash, then.

“Yep.” 

Evie raised her eyebrows. 

“Coulda fooled me.” 

That got her an unsure sort of smile. Unsure could have been enough, but instead, Evie decided to press it a little. Something about the abject sadness practically radiating from the bench bothered her. 

“He kinda reminds me of... what’s that kid’s name? Blonde kid, Harry Potter?” 

“Draco Malfoy?” Ned offered, helpfully. 

“There it is.” Evie snapped her fingers, “Talking about “my dad” this and “my dad” that. It’s exhausting.” 

“Well then, why were you hanging out with his group anyways?” Ned questioned. 

“I just moved here. I thought I’d just hang out with my friend Maggie but then... I didn’t want to be there anymore.” Evie shrugged. 

Both boys nodded, understandably unwilling to verbally acknowledge the night’s events. Then again, Evie wasn’t exactly rushing to bring them up, either. Instead, she decided to ask a more pressing question. 

“Neither of you would know the best way to get back into Brooklyn from here, would you?”

“We were gonna walk to the nearest station.” Peter revealed, “I’m from Queens but I can help, if you want. Where are you in Brooklyn?” 

“I’m by Presbyterian Hospital, if you know there?” Evie offered, “There’s a station, but, ah, I only moved a month and some ago, so I’m still getting used to the line names.” 

“Oh, no problem,” Peter replied, sounding a little more relaxed, “I think I know sorta where you’re talking about, we’ll just go towards Delmar’s and I think there’s a line going that way from there.” 

Wait a second. She knew that name. 

“Oh, hang on— the sandwich shop?” 

“Exactly.” Peter nodded, as he and then Ned stand up, “Have... have you been?” 

“Didn’t get a sandwich, but yeah. He’s got a cute cat.” 

“Murph? Yeah.” Peter agreed, “I’m not too far from Delmar’s, actually— only six blocks or so.” 

“Really?” Evie replied, “I’ve only been the once. I don’t think I could forget it though, to be honest.” 

“Why’s that?” Ned questioned. 

Evie shook her head, getting the sudden urge to backtrack. Some kids here probably made up stories about meeting superheroes all the time. She didn’t want to get pinned as an attention-seeker. 

“You guys would probably think I was crazy if I told you.” 

“Well now you’ve gotta tell us.” Ned pressed, “You can’t just give us a line like that and cop out, right Pete?” 

“I dunno, man.” Peter held up a hand, “I-If she doesn’t wanna say, that’s fine. Weird things do happen.” 

Evie held the silence for a minute. The sidewalk had narrowed, leading to her now trailing behind the two boys, past fancy homes with neatly manicured gardens, the newest luxury-car models gleaming in circle driveways. Who was to say she’d ever see them again? She may as well tell somebody— she hadn’t yet mentioned it to Maggie because of her gossipy tendencies and she really was the only other person Evie had to tell. 

“It’s kinda weird, but... I’m pretty sure I ran into Spider-Man.” Evie finally spoke, breaking the silence. 

Ned stopped, and Evie had to quickly stop too, so as not to run into him. He glanced to Peter, incredulously, then to Evie and then back to Peter. They seemed to share a brief, silent conversation between themselves. 

“You guys don’t believe me, huh?” Evie shrugged, “I figured as much.” 

“No, no, I believe you.” Ned agreed, “I-I- mean... what a coincidence, y’know? Because I’ve met Spider-Man too— I’m on the Academic Decathlon team at Midtown. Not sure if you’ve heard about the whole Washington Monument thing?” 

“Oh, right!” Evie remembered, “I read about that, actually— that’s crazy— were you were in the elevator?” 

“Yep.” Ned nodded— Peter apparently getting impatient as he took the lead and started walking again— “It was so freaking scary, but then Spider-Man busted through the window and caught the elevator _right_ when it broke.” 

Evie whistled, lowly. 

“Those webs must be something else. I’ve gotta ask— did you notice his voice?” 

“What?” Ned questioned, as they rounded the corner towards the subway station. 

“He’s got some kind of New York accent, but I dunno, I think he’s playing it up. He sounded like he was on a cartoon.” 

Ned snorted. 

“Like what, like,” he cut off and went for his best impression of a stereotypical New Yorker, “ay, I’m walkin’ here!” 

“Exactly like that.” she agreed, which only served to make him laugh harder. 

Evie was smiling too, before she abruptly realized that she’d moved up alongside Ned on the sidewalk. Looking back up ahead, she could see that Peter had already reached the subway station and now waited for them with crossed arms. 

“He’s got a secret identity to keep, y’know.” Peter cut in as they caught up and started to walk down the stairs. 

“Huh?” 

“Sp-Spider-Man.” he clarified, “So, I... I guess sounding like a cartoon character is preferable to putting your family and friends in danger.” 

“From who, random strangers on the sidewalk?” Evie returned, “I mean, I could see doing stuff like that with major super-villains, but surely he wouldn’t have to be on guard like that all the time, right?” 

“Maybe he’s never _off_ -guard.” Peter muttered. 

Evie considered that. Sure, she knew what it felt like to put a guard up: plenty of people did. She knew it wasn’t always easy, and that was for her— a regular girl with no dual identity to keep track of. 

“Sounds lonely.” she commented, “Living like that.” 

There were a few moments of silence, steam wafting up through the floor vents, the soft squeaks of their shoes in the tunnel, the rattle of the escalator as it carried them down. 

“Next train’s in like, two minutes— we made good time.” Ned finally broke the silence. 

“Yep.” Peter agreed. 

Evie stayed silent as that train finally did roll in. Peter had made a good point. But there was something in the way he’d made it, like he’d related to the supposed struggle vigilantes like Spider-Man had to face. She glanced at him as he and Ned broke off into some conversation about a Dungeons and Dragons campaign they wanted to try. 

He looked so... unassuming. Aside from the smear of dried blood on his forehead, he looked like your average “good kid”. She could practically see him coming home from school with all As, his mom giving him a big hug as his dad ruffled his hair. Peter looked like the type of guy to do extra math problems “just for fun”, the one who actually corrected the teacher in class and was unintentionally hilarious in the process. 

“What?” Peter questioned, the sound sudden in the relatively-quiet car.

“Nothin’.” Evie replied, reflexively, and looked up at the peeling ads until he returned to his conversation. 

Well, great— now she totally looked like a creep. New York had been her chance to be cool, her chance to finally personify the aloof, witty and articulate person she’d always wanted to be, and thus far, she’d remained exactly the same as before: quiet and undeniably weird. 

Fan-tastic. 

They made to switch lines at the next stop. Ned subsequently caught Evie in a discussion about Percy Jackson that she tried her best to follow— she’d read a few of the books, sure, but the amount of detail he could go into was frankly both alarming and impressive. Still, Ned was nice, so even if she didn’t exactly know what he was talking about, she kept the conversation going as best she could, After a few more stops, he stood up as they coasted towards the next one. 

“Nice meeting you, Evie.” he offered. 

“You too.” Evie replied, “Here’s hoping the movie studios do a better job with Percy Jackson, next time.” 

After exchanging their own goodbyes, Evie watched in amusement as Peter and Ned did some sort of elaborate handshake. They scarcely even had to look at each other, the motions were so practiced, and the train came to a complete stop soon after, allowing Ned to take his leave. Evie and Peter remained, directly across from each other. 

“What was that?” Evie couldn’t help but ask, “Some kind of secret handshake?” 

“Uh, y-yeah.” Peter replied, “We, uh... that’s our thing.” 

“Oh.” Evie noted, “That’s very Tyler and Josh of you.” 

“Huh?” 

“Tyler Joseph and Josh Dunn?” Evie clarified, now feeling doubly-embarrassed, “Twenty-One Pilots?” 

“Oh, uh... I haven’t really heard much of their stuff. Sorry.” Peter apologized, actually looking embarrassed. 

Evie could spontaneously combust. Keeping it distantly cool was now no longer an option. Not that it had been working particularly well before. 

“Oh, nah, it’s okay.” she raised her hands, “I, well... I mean, they’re awesome, but they aren’t my absolute faves.” 

“Oh. Who’re your favorites, then?” Peter asked, curiously. 

‘ _Oh, God_.’ Evie thought, ‘ _Okay, be chill. Don’t overplay this_.’ 

“I love Brendon Urie.” she blurted out, then immediately regretted it, “I-I mean... his music, that’s my favorite.” 

“I think I’ve heard his name before.” Peter agreed, “Wait— isn’t he the Panic at the Disco guy?” 

”Yeah.” Evie nodded, “Yeah, that’s him. How about you, what do you listen to?” 

“I’m all over the place.” Peter confessed, “Mostly alt-rock, I guess— I’ve been mostly going through alt-J and Young the Giant lately. And rap, but hey, who doesn’t listen to that?”

“Very true.” said Evie, who knew the chorus to Gold Digger, but very little else. 

They fell back into a silence, going around another curb and arriving at the next stop. 

“Hey, what you said, earlier..” Evie offered, catching his eyes as he looked back up, “You made a good point. I mean, hey, I have no idea what living like a superhero is like.” 

“Yeah.” Peter agreed, with a laugh, “Yeah, neither do I.” 

Finally, they pulled to their next stop. Peter stood up, and reflexively, Evie stood too. 

“This is the station by Delmar’s.” he offered as they screeched to a stop. 

“Awesome.” Evie agreed, “I should be good from here, then. Thank you, Peter.” 

“Oh, no.. no problem.” he brushed it off. 

They stepped off the subway, one after the other and stood there a moment as it gusted away, disturbing a few newspapers in its wake. 

Sure, Evie still didn’t know all the drama around Peter. But, she considered, watching as he pulled out a pair of earbuds and set to untangling them, maybe she didn’t need to. She liked talking to him, and, unlike a majority of people, he didn’t seem to mind her silence. Besides, she could only text her friends from home so much. 

“Hey, uh...” Evie trailed off, tugging her phone from her pocket, “metaphorically, if I were to need directions again...” 

Turning to the side, she noticed that Peter had taken a similar approach, his phone held out in his hand. 

“Um, wanna exchange numbers?” he asked, with something closer to a genuine smile. 

Evie grinned right back. Maybe now she’d start to have a reason to take her Midtown route again. 

“Yeah.” she agreed, trading Peter’s phone for hers, “That’d be great.” 

She quickly filled in her contact info and handed the phone back, before staring down at her own. 

“You put an emoji after your name?” she questioned, staring down at the icon: a smile with its eyes squeezed shut and its tongue extended. Truthfully, she was more bewildered by his particular choice of emoji than the fact that he used them at all. 

“You don’t?” Peter retorted, easily, and then handed his own phone back, “Here, you put one too.” 

“Uh... okay?” Evie agreed, tapping what she assumed to be the emoji tab and wincing, “Oh, man— these are freakin’ weird. This has to be a Starkphone— those guys always make the wildest designs.” 

“Yep.” Peter agreed, watching as she scrolled and finally selected a basic sunglasses-emoji. She returned his phone and finally stepped back. 

“It was nice to meet you, Peter.” she said, and meant it, “Goodnight.” 

“You too, Evie.” he agreed, heading for the stairs and putting in his earbuds, “Night!” 

Evie turned her own way and carried on. She glanced down, to her new contact, then back to the now-empty stairs. 

All things considered, she supposed it had ended up a good night.


End file.
